Truth or Dare
by likes-it-bubbly
Summary: Season 3, episode 10, "TCOT Lucky Legs". Perry defends leg model Marjorie Cluny and goes at great lengths to clear her name. Even Della is surprised to hear what he asks her to do in order to bring a witness out of her shell of lies.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _Season 3, episode 10, **"** TCOT Lucky Legs". Perry defends leg model Marjorie Cluny and goes at great lengths to clear her name. Even Della is surprised to hear what he asks her to do in order to bring a witness out of her shell of lies._ A little fluff piece, some angst. A weird little ending. The kind of story my muse creates when Della does Perry one of her sweet little favors. Characters are not mine, but apparently they are permanent residents in my mind. :) Enjoy!

* * *

 **Truth or Dare  
**

The courtroom was quiet around her, just Perry's voice in her ear, Hamilton Burger's somewhere in the background interrogating their client's roommate. Della looked at Perry, careful not to startle Marjorie who, as a client, was stuck between them at the defense table. Her brown eyes narrowed. Did he really just ask her to remove her stockings?

Unwilling to start a discussion over Marjorie's head, the secretary hesitated but eventually got up. Her mind insisted on trusting the lawyer in Perry Mason, not the man, because in a courtroom he had never let her down. He always knew where to draw that fine line between work and pleasure. Although for him, working on a case equaled pleasure, a flaw that rubbed off on her on occasion, depending on the nature of a case. So far, Marjorie's case had not tickled her beyond her usual professional interest. Perry's question now, however, his unusual request, promised to bear a secret Della was eager to see revealed. His face showed no trace of joy in asking her, nor mischief. Instead, his face looked grim and focused. He was trying hard to find the dent in the case at hand, the scribbling on his notepad gave him away.

As Della circled the defense table, she threw Perry one last look for reassurance but only found him staring at the notes and lines lying before him. It was useless to try and start a silent conversation with him like that. Useless to find out where he was going with his request. If his eyes were glued on a sheet of paper, his mind was chewing something over. It was only a matter of time for her to find out what had triggered his need for her to remove her stockings. Now. In court. If it wasn't tied to the case, if there was no other reason than for him to distract his thoughts, Perry would sure regret to have pulled her leg. He knew very well she wasn't prone to public pranks. Paul, on the other hand...

Della shook her head. No, the boys would not pull a stunt on her like that. Hide stockings in Perry's drawer or in the cracks of the office couch to make her jealous? Of course. Even Laura had tried to elicit the jealousy monster in her like that more than once. But Della had never given in to the temptation. Not even when she had had good reason to actually be jealous of Laura, back when they had all been much younger and Perry had been a better lawyer than man.

When the courtroom door closed behind her, the secretary sighed. Where were all those musings coming from, the memories and doubts? Trying to shake them off as she walked down the hall, Della finally reached the ladies' room and was relieved to find it unoccupied. As she locked the door from the inside, she chuckled to herself, "The things you make me do for you, Perry Mason." And for a moment she remembered Mae's reaction to first meeting her employer years ago. "He's going to get you into trouble," Mae had whispered to her with a warm smile. "He's that kind of handsome. And smart." Mae's voice echoed in her mind. "He's going to break your heart."

Della looked at the woman reflected to her in the mirror. She looked tall and slim. Her hair was practical yet feminine. Her figure curvy and athletic. Her smile painted red with a pensive smile hat didn't seem to fit. Slowly, she reached for the door to steady herself, then stepped out of her heels and loosened the garters that held up her stockings underneath her skirt. Cursing herself for the lack of preparation, Della held her breath for a moment, then pushed her skirt up and removed her garter belt for good, then glared at herself again in the mirror.

If only she had packed an extra pair of nylons! Della shook her head and promised herself to always carry an extra pair from now on in her purse. After all, working with Perry, she never knew what he had on his mind next. So in a way, she should have anticipated the situation she now found herself in. Maybe not today. Maybe not in court. "But one of these days it is bound to happen," Mae's voice sounded in her head again. "The way you look at him, the way you make him look at you. There's no escape."

Overcome by images both real and devised, Della closed her eyes at the feeling of tepid air caressing her legs as she rolled off her stockings. One by one. Inch by inch. Perry's face flashed up in her mind, his tender eyes. Della swallowed hard. Had Paul Drake now knocked fiercely on the door to ask what was taking her so long, she would have welcomed the intrusion, had hurried up and erased the longing that enveloped her from deep inside. But without interruption, she had a hard time letting go of all those memories and moments, of that hidden persuasion of what could be or might have been on more than one occasion. His hand on the small of her back, his thumb engaged in a slight caress. A smile conveyed through his eyes, darkened blue. His lips like feathers on her skin, gone too fast to leave a mark but unmistakable enough to make the fine hair on her neck stand up.

Della tried to shake it off, tried to chase him away, out of her mind - like so often before. When reason finally prevailed over her heart again, Della did not know how much time had passed. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she better get done and fast. So she straightened her skirt and glared at herself again in the mirror. Her eyes were misty and wide. Her smile mildly satisfied. She sighed. Hopefully, no one would be able to tell her legs were bare now. Hopefully her feet wouldn't swell and ruin her heels.

 _Perry sure would have to add a pair of nylons to his expenses this time. And a paper bag, too,_ the secretary smiled proudly to herself as she found the helpful item in her purse. "There is just no way I'm not concealing what you asked me to present to you in court, Mr. Mason." Shaking her head to herself one last time, Della sighed, then exited the ladies' room with a professional smile.

When she reentered the courtroom seconds later, she was not unaware of Arthur Tragg's suspicious eyes. Hamilton Burger was strangely preoccupied, at least until Perry met her halfway at the defense table without interrupting his already launched interrogation of their client's roommate. As Della handed him the paper bag, she secretly prayed no one would guess she was practically half nude now underneath her skirt. Although she wasn't sure what Perry's thoughts were on the matter. The way he avoided her eyes seemed forced, almost uneasy. Not that his demeanor would have anyone suspect that the great Perry Mason was anything but focused on the witness on the stand. When Perry suddenly revealed the stockings to pester the uncooperative witness, however, Della's heart stopped for a beat.

How he had managed to extract the neatly folded pair of nylons from the bag without anyone noticing it, including her, she didn't know. Lieutenant Tragg and the district attorney were obviously too busy trying to understand Perry's strategy to have paid attention, but what about everyone else? Della cupped her face in one hand, was nervous for a second, then realized no one cared about the origin of the stockings. The entire room was glued to Perry's words, his targeted questions and the evasive answers of a witness who, like many before her, now crumbled on the stand.

"The things that man gets away with," Mae's voice rang inside her head. "Deliciously outrageous." And maybe it was, Della mused and watched the witness squirm in her seat. "He's good," Marjorie Cluny suddenly whispered. "He is," Della Street agreed, then picked up her pencil and jotted down what Thelma Bell had to say to exonerate her former roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

"I owe you a pair of stockings, Ms. Street," Perry Mason whispered to his secretary as soon as the courtroom had cleared after adjournment.

"Don't think you can keep the ones I stripped off for your convenience," Della returned equally quiet.

"It wasn't for my convenience," the attorney protested. "I was trying to prove a point."

"And which point would that be?" Della cocked her eyebrows. "How easy it is for you to make me jump through hoops?"

"I would never ask you to jump through hoops!"

"Of course not," Della chuckled. "You would ask Paul to make me."

"As if Paul could talk you into doing something you don't have your heart set on," Perry challenged her with a laugh.

"Don't underestimate Paul's power of persuasion. But we're talking about boundaries here, Chief," Della tried to sound sincere. "I provided you with a necessary tool to find a witness guilty of a lie, now I want it back." She waited. "C'mon, tell me. Where are they, Perry?" Again, she waited. But no response. "Don't think you can keep them." Her voice was getting playfully impatient now. "Where are my nylons, counselor? Speak!"

"I entered them in evidence...," Perry Mason started, clearly amused.

"You did not," his secretary interrupted, hands on hips.

"In evidence for everything you do for me without questioning my motives," the attorney finished with a boyish smile.

"Oh, I questioned your motives all right," Della Street clicked her lips and laughed. "But I trusted you enough to know where to draw the line." She paused. "I am inclined to ask for a raise though." Her eyes glistened with joy or revenge, Perry wasn't quite sure.

"Because in your book this qualifies as …," the lawyer raised his eyebrows.

"Let's just say, business school did not exactly prepare me for your kind of stunts. Although they warned us of your kind." Della shot him a flirty smile.

"My kind?" Perry chuckled. "The kind who chases you around the desk and makes insinuating remarks?"

"No, the kind who doesn't." The secretary held out her hand for him to reveal her stockings from his pockets. "Besides, didn't you agree to give me a raise every time someone illegally uses my name to create a diversion?" Della's eyes glared at him with that mix of relentlessness and charm. Perry Mason's heart dropped for a beat, then pumped again, harder than his head approved of. "I know you tried to hide it from me, but Arthur sang to me like a stool pigeon."

Of course he did, Perry Mason sighed. After all, Arthur Tragg was susceptible to that mix, too: Della's eyes piercing but warm, her smile genuine but without remorse. "Let's discuss this elsewhere, shall we," the attorney tried to wiggle out of her control.

"Gladly," his girl Friday purred. "But wherever we go, I'd like to be decent." Her hand was still waiting for him to present her nylon legwear. "If you don't mind, counselor."

"What if I do," Perry grinned and welcomed her hands diving through the pockets of his sports jacket.

"I see this will be a long discussion tonight," Della rolled her eyes, then laughed.

"Just exactly what I had in mind," Perry grinned, then gently grabbed her shoulders to pull her closer, his lips only inches away from hers. "Any more pockets you wish to rampage through?" His lips met hers for a tender buss, his heart always prepared for her to break away. But this time, Della did not move. Instead, her hands explored his chest, his shoulders next, until her arms reached up around his neck. Huddling against him, she kissed him hard, unwilling to let him go.

"I'm generally inclined to encourage your diligence," Perry suddenly gasped for air. "But I think we should relocate."

Della's face was flushed, her eyes gleamy, raw. She nodded. "Of course."

The air that hit her when Perry pulled away was cold. It made her shiver. Observant as he was, the attorney wrapped his coat around her shoulders, aware that for a moment she was unable to move. Standing still, Della listened to her heartbeat going fast and watched how Perry collected their briefcases, their notes, her purse. Then he pulled her close again, warmed her, at least until they reached the door.

"Finally, there you are," Paul exclaimed in the hall. "Your client is waiting for you! Tragg already wanted to lock her up for the day. He thought you had reconsidered." Giving his friends a once-over, the detective quickly added, "And by the looks on your faces, I think you might've." Paul's eyes barely met Perry's but rested on Della's instead. "Whatever took you so long today? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's just fine, Paul," Della reassured her friend. "We were just discussing Thelma Bell's testimony."

"You two are clearly working too hard," the detective sighed sympathetically. "The lipstick around Perry's mouth proves it." Paul smirked. "I mean, the color suits you, pal. You should really ask Della to share it with you more often."

"If you're planning to get any lippier about this, _pal_...," Perry started, then laughed at the face his friend was making for him.

"Lippier? Hmm, nice choice of words!"

"I better get changed at the office," Della interrupted the familiar banter Perry usually had the upper hand in. _Not so today_ , Della chuckled and squeezed his hand. "I'll wait for you until you're done."

"That woman is a gem," Paul Drake teased his friend. "You should have her evaluated."

"Are you offering your services," Perry Mason asked, his eyes squinted.

"Of course. How could I not," Paul chuckled. "For a friend?"


	3. Chapter 3

Della Street was sitting behind her employers desk to arrange the notes she had typed up after returning from court. She loved to sit in his chair, enjoyed the overview of an office that used to be his and had become hers, too. Not that she had willfully claimed it, but working more closely with Perry over the years, their current arrangement had arisen from too many all-nighters and too much overtime. It was practical to use the same office unless she was doing her after-hour typing. Unless a new client had an appointment. Unless she decided to give him some space.

Never had Della considered to more than a professional constant in his life. His private secretary. His keys in her purse, her name on his emergency contact list. Although never wasn't quite true. She had entertained the thought of accepting one of his proposals. Some day, when the practice would have quieted down and his heart had decided to beat at a normal pace. If that day ever came. If his offer would then still be standing.

Della gulped. When had her heart to decided to take over her mind?

She shook her head. No, this wasn't right and yet it had felt so good. His body pressed against her in the courtroom. His lips so soft against hers. She hadn't expected that, didn't remember his lips so tentative. His hands so large and tender nonetheless.

The secretary sighed. What if she decided not to turn him down next time he asked her? What if she broke her rules to finally date her employer. Something her aunt already thought she did. And depending on the perspective that was probably already the case. Their state of possibly-maybe. Late night dinners, Bear Valley weekends, cruises from Vancouver to L.A. His car for her convenience, closet space at the office. Her soaps in the bathroom. Daily flowers on her desk. A drawer for her in his.

Della cupped her face in her hands. Why did love always have to be so complicated? Della gasped, then smiled. Was it love that made her feel so light and yet so heavy?

"I should be out more, it seems," his voice cut through her thoughts with a lingering sound so gentle, it weakened Della's knees. "My secretary smiles when I'm away."

"She also smiles when you return," Della answered, reluctant to let go of the warm feeling in her gut.

"You are in some mood today, Ms. Street," Perry Mason met her rapt smile with an ardent sparkle in his yes. "Why is that, I wonder?" He walked around his desk to claim his chair and cradle her in his lap.

"You sound as if we've never kissed before." Della dropped her shoes on the floor to better fit with him, then disappeared in his arms for a lingering kiss.

"Not like this," Perry replied under his breath. "Not that I mind," he quickly added.

"Didn't think you would," Della laughed sweetly, her head now resting on his shoulder, her hands busy fondling his chest and neck.

"I love you, Della," Perry suddenly admitted. "I always have."

"I know," she answered quietly.

"So this is it," the lawyer asked his secretary. "You and me, together? So simple?" His hands brushed over her arm, her waist, her legs.

"If that's what you want." Della's voice was as low as a whisper now.

"This is not a fleeting thing, is it, darling," Perry hustled her gently. "You are here to stay, aren't you?"

"I am," Della reassured her lover quietly. "Just give me some time to adapt. My mind is still processing what has happened."

"What exactly has happened," the attorney asked faster than the man was able to protest.

"I don't know," Della shrugged. "You asked me to strip off my stockings for you. I began to question your motives."

"I thought you trusted me," Perry Mason almost sounded hurt.

"Your eyes are betraying you, counselor," Della brought her mouth to his. "But I don't mind. My intentions aren't exactly innocent either."

"Is this my cue to ask you to become my wife and we live happily ever after?"

"You've asked me twice and it never felt right, chief. I'll say yes next time you ask me, but the moment must be right. I must know you feel it. For you and me, not for a case gone wrong or the world gone mad." She looked deep into his eyes. "Promise me that." Another kiss. "Perry, please?"

His hand in her hair. A nod. "All right."

"Now let's go eat," Della suddenly proclaimed. "I'm starving!"

Perry laughed and watched her struggling to get up. As she untangled herself from his embrace, Della added, "So, where are we going?"

"Wherever the lady wants to go. I'll treat you to dinner," the attorney offered with a smitten smile.

"Of course you will," Della kissed him lightly, then helped him up. "You still owe me for today."

"I thought we were even now," Perry shook his head.

"Even how?" Della glared at him with practiced innocence. "All I know is that you got my stockings and the girl. What's in it for me?"

"A four star dinner, a bottle of champagne. A new pair of stockings, directly from Paris?"

"Cheap, counselor!" The secretary stood in front of him, her arms folded in front of her chest. "Trying to corrupt me with luxury items. I thought you knew me better than that."

"Then what do you want?" Perry looked at her amused.

"Just take me home, chief," her voice sounded low and seductive, her eyes glistened with confidence.

"To do what?" The attorney pulled her close to him again, her mouth only inches away.

"Find my stockings," Della hummed. "Play truth or dare."

"Truth," Perry whispered, his eyes locked on hers. "Are you in love with me, Ms. Street?"

"I am," Della's voice gave up on her. His mouth met hers. His kiss was soft, then deeper, hungry somehow, intimate. Like coming home. His hands explored her, left her wanted, matching the fire her touch ignited in him.

"Dare," Perry breathed onto her skin, making her moan. "Marry me."

"You little rascal," Della croaked, her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't think I'm unprepared," Perry Mason was now fighting with his own voice. "I have a ring somewhere around here."

Losing the fight against her tears, Della hid in the embrace he so helplessly provided, then brushed her lips against his neck. "I know."


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

"When I offered my services to evaluate Della, I did not mean for you to damage her first," Paul Drake nudged his friend as he entered Perry Mason's office.

"What is he talking about," Della shot her employer a bewildered look from behind his desk.

"I basically told Perry you're too good for him and he should have you evaluated, gem that you are." Paul grinned and dropped down into his usual chair. "But I'm afraid, it's too late now. He has spoiled you for life. You're damaged goods. No other man will ever see eye to eye with him for you again."

"You told him," Della glared at Perry as he slipped back into his chair right next to her.

"I did not," he defended himself. "This is what happens when your best friend is a private eye. He snoops around in our lives, too!"

"If only you had made me snoop," Paul laughed. "But I'm not blind! You two are so obviously in love." The detective shook his head. "Just ask Hamilton Burger or Tragg. They know." Watching his friends glaring at each other behind their desk, he added, "Ah for Pete's sake, ask whomever you want. Gertie, Mae, the mailman, Marjorie, bailiff Carter. Everyone knows! You're not exactly subtle. A look her, a touch there." Paul shook his head in amusement. "And whom do you think you were kidding when you wrapped that nylon stocking around Thelma Bell's wrist? Everyone in that courtroom knew who that stocking belonged to. Including the judge!"

"We are engaged to be married," Della suddenly announced, her eyes still glued on Perry's.

Hit by the sudden news, Paul's face dropped. "That," he started quietly, "I didn't know."

"It's breaking news," Della answered flatly. "Not even the papers had a chance to run it yet."

"When did you two decide to...," Paul muttered, trying hard to get his head around the fact that his best friend would soon tie the knot.

"Last night," Perry replied and smiled when Della opened the drawer in his desk to reveal the ring he had slipped onto her finger only hours ago.

"I might as well wear it now," his fiancée returned his smile.

"Congratulations," Paul finally mumbled. "I guess." At the sight of Perry taking Della's hand to cup it with his, Paul continued. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a stiff. I'm just stunned." Then he paused again and looked suspiciously at Perry. "This isn't a prank now, is it?"

The couple shook their heads. "We're dead serious."

"You really can't do this, you know," Paul suddenly jumped out of his chair. "I mean, have you considered the consequences? What if the stork comes knocking and Della can't work anymore? Or what if this doesn't work out? Who's going to replace whom? This is every bit her office as it is yours, pal, let's not kid ourselves about this here. And who would I end up working with? Would I have to chose? I don't want to chose between you two!" Paul was pacing the office now. "I don't think you have thought this through. I mean, I'd get a kick out of being a godfather for your brood, but how is this supposed to work? This is a trio gig, this law firm. A quartet even, including Gertie. It doesn't work if you remove one person and bring in a rookie. You cannot do this to me. You are my family!"

"We're not giving you up for adoption, dear," Della soothed Paul with an exaggerated smirk. "Don't worry."

Suppressing a chuckle, Perry added, "But thanks for your concern, Paul. We really appreciate your warm wishes."

"Warm wishes my eye," Paul replied, then stormed towards the door that separated the main from the outer office. "If that's how you want to play it, fine!" Then he jerked the door open, leaving Della and Perry stunned for a moment until the room was filled with family and friends, voices and laughter, confetti and cake. "Congratulations," Paul shouted from the depth of his lungs and the crowd followed his lead.

"That you didn't expect now, did you," Paul grinned at his friends' blushed faces, hugged Perry tight and swung Della around the room. "Now who's the best detective?"

 **The End**


End file.
